


It's good shit (I like it when you play with my hair)

by Lady_Michiru



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Bromance to Romance, M/M, Tomochoco challenge, Valentine's Day, not quite songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 08:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Michiru/pseuds/Lady_Michiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Valentine’s Day, alright, but Inoo actually doesn’t have anywhere else to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's good shit (I like it when you play with my hair)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rory for her notable contribution to science](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rory+for+her+notable+contribution+to+science).



> I have to apologize for this not-quite-songfic. The title and almost 95% of the dialog is ripped shamelessly and textually (mostly) from a song by the band **Capital Cities**. The song itself is called “Farrah Fawcett Hair". It's a great band and a nifty song, so go check it out! 
> 
> As I was listening I couldn't help but imagine these two telling each other the things they mention on the lyrics, and so.. this was born. /bows deeply in apology.
> 
> Sorry Rory, your surprise fic is essentially lyrics plagiarism. But it was done with love. Thank you for being our “science” facts provider and for all your picspams!
> 
>  
> 
> _Prompt: Both single, A-kun and B-kun decide to hang out together for Valentine's Day. Their bromance becomes a romance._
> 
> Other fanfiction from the challenge: [arashijun](http://monochromaticas.livejournal.com/6390.html) | faded-lace [1](http://faded-lace.livejournal.com/446592.html) [2](http://faded-lace.livejournal.com/446749.html) [3](http://faded-lace.livejournal.com/446993.html) | [lady-michiru](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1184026) | mousapelli [1](http://mousapelli.livejournal.com/882529.html) [2](http://mousapelli.livejournal.com/882823.html) [3](http://mousapelli.livejournal.com/883075.html) | [ohhai-yo](http://ohhai-yo.livejournal.com/1331.html) | [rikikomori](http://www.agirlcalledkil.com/?p=15273) | [tokyoskater](http://tokyoskater.livejournal.com/18260.html) | vflmaeuschen [1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1184442) [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1184454) | [yomimashou](http://yomimashou.livejournal.com/149100.html)

It’s Valentine’s Day, alright, but Inoo actually doesn’t have anywhere else to be.

Usually he would have just declined Hikaru’s invitation for just lazing around watching a movie, and eating sushi, but the shooting they had earlier consumed all of his strength and he is too tired for going shopping or anything else that requires moving, and his schedule is clear until noon the next day, so why not? Besides, even his sister has a date today, and he’d just feel really miserable in his house all by himself.

But the movie is already over, and they already dealt with the sushi, and even the popcorn ran out. And now Inoo is just spread over a sofa while some questionable American rock band plays on the background. And even if he is so exhausted that he might as well be drunk with how fuzzy he is, he still doesn’t want to leave, no matter the late hour.

It’s nice, the atmosphere when there’s just the two of them, the way Hikaru looks like when he is just tired enough to finally relax but not tired enough to stop talking and shutting off the rest of the world. The way nothing Inoo can say is ever weird enough or random enough for Hikaru.

“Okay, let’s play a game,” Hikaru says, sounding as drunk with sleepiness as Inoo himself. He is splayed on the sofa beside Inoo, both of them comfortable enough looking at the ceiling.

“We already agreed that ‘Never I have ever’ just isn’t funny without alcohol…” Inoo reminds him. They could get something to drink too, they have established that Hikaru does indeed own a bottle of red wine, but they’d have to get to the kitchen to get it, and that’s simply not happening.

“This is another game… I just came up with it,” Hikaru states, then chuckles. “It’s called ‘Things I super ultra power like’.”

“What’s with the lousy name…?” Inoo can’t help but laugh.

“Shut up,” Hikaru says and playfully kicks him. “It’s a great name. So, we play it like this,” Hikaru explains. “I say something I like then you say something you like. The first one that asks why or runs out of things to like has to wash the dishes.”

“That’s the lamest game ever, and that’s considering all the variety shows we’ve been stuck in…”

“They have to be things the other didn’t know about you, or you also lose,” Hikaru adds, as if that was enough to make it better.

“It’s still a lame game…” Inoo says, a yawn mingling with the smile in his voice.

“I like it when kids have these… big glasses on, and they shriek when you chase after them,” says Hikaru, ignoring Inoo’s protests.

“So we’re really going to do this?” Inoo briefly turns his head to look at Hikaru by his side, and then returns to his almost meditative contemplation of the ceiling.

“Your turn or you lose and wash the dishes,” Hikaru says in that tone that never lets Inoo knows if he is joking or talking seriously.

“I… like sunsets,” Inoo says. He doesn’t mind the dishes, but he feels like indulging Hikaru for some reason.

“Oh, come on!” Hikaru looks at him, Inoo can feel it in the way the air moves.

“Annoying retorts aren’t against the rules?” Inoo asks, playfully. He doesn’t turn his head; just looks sideways at Hikaru, who snorts.

“I like it when I'm sleeping,” Hikaru says then, dragging his eyes back upwards.

Inoo doesn’t, and for a while he just looks at his group mate, at his friend beside him, black haired and more mature looking, and maybe it’s the tiredness but those butterflies from long ago are back on his stomach. But he closes his eyes, tries to drive them away; he is over this, has been for a while now.

“I like solar energy,” he says, the first thing that comes to his mind.

“I like eating ceviche in Peru and seeing a double rainbow while listening to Bitches Brew as recorded by Miles Davis,” Hikaru lets out, barely pausing to breathe.

“You have never done that! You can’t say that you like it!” Inoo replies, trying to feign indignation to no avail, because he cracks up laughing anyway.

“It’d be neat though, and annoying retorts are definitely against the rules.” 

It’s Inoo’s turn to snort. “I like democracy,” he says, nonetheless, and he actually manages to sound serious.

“Of course you do, the future of Japan and all that,” Hikaru throws his arm over his own face, laughs into it.

“What did we say about retorts...?” Inoo reprimands, but it sounds in that way that is almost haughty but too high pitched, the way that always makes Hikaru laugh.

“Yeah…” Hikaru concedes, unexpectedly docile. He shifts drowsily in the sofa, relocating his arms to rest over his chest, as if he was preparing for sleeping. “I like full length mirrors.”

“I like it when public bathrooms have scented candles,” Inoo sighs, he could fall asleep too, in this couch, fighting the increasing urge of resting his head on Hikaru’s shoulder because he promised himself he wouldn’t go there again, ever again. 

“I like it when you're under the ocean and all you can feel is calm,” Hikaru sighs, and Inoo fights to remember all the reasons he had to give up on things he could never have, and curses once more at that damned drama that forced him to spend such long hours in close quarters with Hikaru that he has been forced to fight against the rekindle of his feelings too often.

They are friends, and that is as far as it goes. And it's perfectly okay. 

“I like it when it rains at night and I'm curled up in bed with a good book,” Inoo says.

"Close," Hikaru warns, making Inoo snap and look at him inquiringly. “I'll let it slip because I didn’t know about the rain part. But... close."

Inoo swallows and he really hopes Hikaru believes it's because of the prospect of losing this silly game and not because he suddenly feels too close to him, and drowsiness along with this sense of weird intimacy is breaking havoc in him.

He is not a teenager anymore he doesn’t need the angst of a crush so obvious even Daiki noticed back in the day. And even when he was a teenager he knew better. Hikaru wants to marry young, have kids, a family. All the things Inoo couldn't give him even if Hikaru did think about him that way. Which he doesn’t.

“I like it when I'm listening to music because that's the only thing that takes me to another world,” Hikaru all but mumbles sending shivers down Inoo's spine.

“I like it when my hair is fluffy,” says Inoo, trying to lower the tension he feels but his high pitched tone gives him away anyway and Hikaru, for once doesn't laugh.

“I like it when your hair is fluffy too…” Hikaru says, and he isn't teasing. 

“That’s against the rules” Inoo says, playfully. His eyes sparkle as he smiles, half amused half secretly pleased.

“I don’t know,” Hikaru says, and Inoo hears the sound of clothes over the leather of the sofa as Hikaru sits upright; the mood is no longer playful.

Inoo looks at Hikaru then, and Hikaru's eyes are a little unfocused but his stare is ever so strong.

“Is it?” Hikaru asks, but neither of them is thinking about the game now. “Against the rules?”

“Your turn,” Inoo whispers, his mouth suddenly dry, his heart hammering in his chest. Hikaru looks at him a little puzzled, so Inoo clarifies. “The game. It’s your turn.”

“I like it when I turn my head around and I catch you looking back,” Hikaru says, slowly, his eyes never breaking away from Inoo’s, and his voice shakes a little, just enough for making Inoo’s stomach tighten and his entire body buzz. 

“What do you mean…?” Inoo can help but ask, noticing what he has done too late, when he sees Hikaru’s mischievous expression.

“That you are _so_ going to wash the dishes.” It’s a feeble attempt at humor in the suddenly tense ambient, but Inoo smiles anyway.

“I like you,” Inoo says and watches Hikaru’s smile widen until it takes over all of his face, wrinkles swallowing his eyes.

“I still win, though,” Hikaru says, but he is shifting in the couch to face Inoo, lifting one of his hands to cup Inoo’s face. “Because I kind of knew that already.”

Inoo really wants to yell at him for being a troll, but he knows it’d be a squeak more than anything and that Hikaru probably would make fun of him. More. So he just leans in, three quarters of the way, gives Hikaru a chance for backing down that Hikaru just doesn’t take.

Hikaru’s lips are warm, a little chaffed and a lot different to what Inoo had always daydreamed about; and they are a lot more pliant than Inoo would have ever guessed as he goes from simply pressing them together to actually move his lip’s over Hikaru’s. And then Hikaru’s tongue brushes over Inoo’s lower lip, asking for access and all the butterflies plus reinforces are back on Inoo’s stomach. It’s so embarrassing he is really happy Hikaru would never know about the details.

Hikaru’s long, strong fingers lace into Inoo’s hair, massaging into his scalp as their tongues clash, and Inoo can’t help the approving sounds that escape low from his throat, but Hikaru doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he deepens the kiss and pulls a little at Inoo’s hair is any indication.

“I like how that feels,” Inoo sighs against Hikaru’s lips when they finally break apart and Hikaru just keeps caressing his hair. 

“I still win,” Hikaru says, but Inoo does not agree, dish washing notwithstanding.

So he just murmurs, “Shut up,” and kisses Hikaru again.


End file.
